


The Things That are Left

by harmonymotel



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Everyone Needs A Hug, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Nightmares, Other, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harmonymotel/pseuds/harmonymotel
Summary: SPOILERS!! IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN ENDGAME, PLEASE DO NOT READ!!----------------------------------------------------Peter’s not doing so well. Happy is trying his best.





	The Things That are Left

Nobody told Peter it would be like this.

He was no stranger to grief, to pain, but the hole in his heart was bigger than he’d ever thought possible, and the ache was debilitating, the hurt was heavy and raw. 

And at night, it was so much worse.

He was somewhere between asleep and awake when the gunfire started, and he lurched out of bed, opened his eyes wide, but was unable to see anything except for the red haze of smoke and silhouettes locked in battle. He tasted blood on his tongue, smelled it in the air, and the noises grew louder, closer. Peter felt cold and numb. His heart raced so fast he feared he might die.

“Mr. Stark!” he yelled over the roar of the battle, voice hoarse. “Mr. Stark!” He was given no reply. His panic increased tenfold, and when he tried to move, to find Tony, he found he couldn’t. Oh god, oh god. The burden of tears in his chest threatened to burst.

“Mr. Stark!” he screamed, and an explosion went off right next to him, leaving his ears ringing and his left side covered in other people’s blood. He let out a low sob and squinted through the darkness. “Tony! Tony, _pl_ - _please_ , I can’t move!”

His Spider Sense was no longer helpful -- it _hurt_. There was so much, _too much_ , around him, and every noise was like a jackhammer straight to the back of his head. He wanted it to stop, he wanted to go home, he was so stupid for ever coming here, just some little idiot like Flash always said, and now he was going to die here without ever saying sorry to May, without ever telling her how much he loved her. He was so scared, he just wanted to go home, _please_.

He kept yelling and screaming, calling out the only name that could make him feel safe right now, that could come to him and stop the pain. But his cries were lost in all the others. Tony would not come for him.

Suddenly, the noise stopped, though the fight raged on around him. Maybe his eardrums burst -- they were ringing loudly, but it was better than all the screaming. He looked around, trembling fiercely. “Tony!” he tried again. The sound of the cry echoed in his head. “Mr. Stark!”

“Peter,” he heard, and whipped his head around to see his mentor walking toward him, a shambles of Iron Man suit and red dirt. Relief washed through Peter with the force of a river.

“Tony,” he sobbed. “Tony, _please_ , I can’t move.”

Mr. Starks eyes were kind and warm like they were when Peter first stepped out of Strange’s portal, and for a moment he thought he would be pulled into another tight hug. “I know, kiddo. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

As Peter opened his mouth to respond, Tony lifted up his right hand, and on it he saw the Infinity Gauntlet. Wait, this was familiar, why did he know this -- “Mr. Stark --”

“You did so good, Pete,” Tony said. But he was strained; the Gauntlet was too powerful. It was tearing him apart.

“No!” Peter screamed, remembering.This wasn’t supposed to happen, this-- oh god, _please_ , please no, nononononononono-- He lunged for his mentor but was still unable to move, still unable to do anything but fall to his knees and cry and scream, beg Tony not to, to please stop, _I can’t do this alone I can’t do this_ , please please please stop.

His throat burned so badly with the force of his screams it might have actually been bleeding, but he didn’t care, he couldn’t watch this again, but his eyes wouldn’t move, wouldn’t close, oh god please don’t let it happen again _please please --_

After a few moments he could hear another voice over his own, but it wasn’t Mr. Stark, or the sounds of the carnage in his surroundings. It was pleading, frightened, and it was saying his name, over and over, begging.

“Peter, Peter, baby, please wake up, honey, please, oh god, sweetheart please -- you’re alright, baby, please --”

It sounded like Aunt May. _He must be dying._

“TONY!” he screamed again, tears hot on his cheeks. “Tony, pl-please, please don’t lea-lea-leave me he-here!”

“I’m calling Happy, I’m gonna -- just hold on, baby, just hold on --”

Tony watched him as he screamed, watched him until the Gauntlet had eaten up his body and left his face ashen and gray.

“You did so good, Pete.”

\---

Happy got the call at nearly four o’clock in the morning, and almost allowed his phone to vibrate on the desk until the caller gave up, because he was tired and did not feel like dealing with anyone until at least tomorrow afternoon. But when he grudgingly reached over to check the caller ID and saw May Parker’s name, he scrambled to open the call.

“May?” he said, already getting out of bed and slipping on his shoes. He could hear her hysteria before she said a word, and the sinking feeling became damn near overpowering.

“It’s Peter, it’s Peter, I don’t know what to do, he won’t stop screaming, please come over, I don’t know how to help him --”

“I’m on my way,” he said immediately, grabbing his car keys from his bedside table. “I’m coming, May, just hold on.”

The sound of her cries on the other line broke his heart, but he knew he had to steel himself before getting to the apartment -- Peter would be so much worse. He’d been a firsthand witness to this kid’s nightmares, and they were nothing short of devastating.

“I’m on my way,” he said again, and barely heard May’s thankyouthankyouthankyou’s on the other end. He hung up the phone, feeling sick. There wouldn’t be anymore sleep tonight.

\---

May Parker was an absolute mess when she met him at the door, tears running down her tired face, arms hugged around herself as if she was trying to hold herself together. He could already hear Peter.

“He hasn’t stopped,” she cried, wiping her eyes with shaking hands. “It’s been almost fifteen minutes, it isn’t supposed to last that long. Please help him.”

With barely a word her way, Happy got through the apartment in just a few long strides, and Peter’s strangled screams got louder and clearer with each step.

He rushed into the kid’s bedroom and found him tangled up in bed sheets on the floor, shaking like a leaf, yelling at the top of his lungs with a cracking, weary voice. He could just make out Tony’s name. It was heartbreaking. Happy went to him and knelt down on the floor, a little afraid to touch -- Peter’s super strength didn’t exactly disappear just because he was sleeping.

“Peter,” he said. “Peter, it’s me, it’s Happy, you gotta wake up, kid.”

The teen’s face was twisted in grief and he was clearly having a hard time breathing, his body convulsing with sobs forceful enough that they’d probably knock him down if he was standing. His voice was so broken and raw he could hardly scream anymore, but his small hoarse cries for Tony were almost worse than the screams. “Oh, _Peter_ …”

Super strength be damned, Happy didn’t mind getting a broken nose for this.

He grabbed the kid’s arm hard and pulled him up out of the sheets, surprised to find so little resistance. The kid’s body must have been too tired to protest.

“Tony, please, please,” Peter cried, “Please don’t leave me here.” 

God, this kid needed an army of therapists. This was PTSD on a level Happy didn’t what to do with, but in the moment all he could do was scoop Peter in his arms and hold him and hope to God his suffering would be over soon. That one day he could heal from this.

“You’re okay, kid, you’re okay. Listen to me, Peter, you’re at home, you’re just dreaming. It’s just a dream, buddy.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whimpered. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can, Peter, _yes you can,_ ” Happy said softly, his voice gentler than he ever thought possible. “You can, you just gotta wake up.” 

He could see May out of the corner of his eye, standing in the doorway crying silently, watching her nephew break to pieces in front of her. He knew how helpless she felt. He felt pretty damn helpless, too.

“C’mon, Pete, you’re okay. You’re okay, buddy, I promise. I promise.”

He hardly noticed the light of his phone glowing through his shirt pocket -- another notification or work text, probably -- but Peter’s eyes were suddenly opening, red and swollen from crying, and he just stared at Happy’s chest, where the phone was giving off blue light.

“Peter…” 

The kid’s hand lifted to touch his pocket, and for a moment there was silence, his cries and sobs coming to a complete halt. He pressed his fingers to the phone, eyes shining with relief, and suddenly Happy understood. He understood, and it was the saddest goddamn thing he had ever seen in his life.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered, and Happy could see his struggling smile in the blue glow. Tears burned at the backs of his own eyes. “We did it,” the kid breathed, “We won.”

And with that, Peter’s exhausted body gave up, and his eyes fluttered back closed. The phone’s light blinked away into darkness, and Happy held Peter close to him in the newborn quiet, sighing heavily. May sunk down to the floor against the doorframe, blotting at her eyes with a Kleenex.

“I’m so sorry, kid,” he breathed, not sure what for. For the loss, sure, but also for every other bad thing Peter pretended he didn’t feel during the day that came back to haunt him like this during the night. He didn’t deserve any of it.

“Is this… is this ever going to stop?” May asked from the door as he gathered the kid up in his arms and laid him back on the bed, pulling his covers up over him. 

He looked at the fifteen year old, whose face had smoothed out peacefully save for the tear tracks. Happy brushed the hair out of Peter’s face and shook his head.

“I don’t know, May. I don’t know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Endgame ripped my heart out and I thought writing this would help but it definitely didn’t lmao. I also have lots of Irondad prompts I’m going to be posting pretty soon, because I HATE ANGST LIKE THIS but I banged this out in 30 minutes after seeing A4 because I needed to write SOMETHING. Anyway, hope you stick around for that stuff, because my heart cannot take all the sad. We will get to the fluff soon, I promise. Thanks for reading! :) <3


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